Both important.

And both extremely dangerous.

Because Grace may have survived my father’s bite, but that only makes her more of a target, not less. He will heal eventually, and when he does, he’ll be angrier, and more afraid, than he ever was before.

Which means it’s already too late.

The war I’ve worked so hard to prevent—the war my brother and others have tried to blame me for inciting—will come whether we want it or not.

Whether we’re ready for it or not.

And now that we know what side the wolves will fall on… It took an army of gargoyles to defeat them the last time the vampires and wolves fought together. Who knows what it will take today, especially when all we have is one gargoyle and a few rogue vampires to join the witches and the dragons.

Not great odds.

But thinking about the war will wait…at least a few more days. Because as Jaxon reaches down to help Grace from the hole I created for her, he wraps his arms around her and presses her body to his. And I begin to see red, even before he leans down to kiss her, and every ounce of chill—and emotional self-preservation—I have goes out the fucking window.

My hands curl into fists, my fangs explode in my mouth, and though there were a million other ways I was hoping to break my newfound knowledge to Grace, the words come out before I can even think about stopping them.

“Jaxon, if you wouldn’t mind, take your fucking hands off my mate.”

End of book Two